


Icy Hot

by tifaching



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Humor, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Ice Play, M/M, Male Slash, Oral Sex, Popsicles, Slash, Sunburn, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-20
Updated: 2011-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:16:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tifaching/pseuds/tifaching
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a sunburn.  Sam takes his mind off of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Icy Hot

Dean’s not looking. He’s not. Sam can sit in the chair across the room and be a tease until the apocalypse has come and gone, and Dean’s eyes won’t so much as stray in his direction.

He’s not listening either. He’s stopped short of putting his hands over his ears and humming Metallica, but Sam knows what yanks his crank and it’s only a matter of time. He may need to _sing_ Metallica-loudly- to stick to his guns here.

It doesn’t help that it’s about a hundred and twenty degrees in the room, the air conditioner is broken and even with his eyes closed Dean can see the gleaming expanse of Sam’s bare chest. Sirens have been luring tourists to watery deaths in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina and Sam’s undercover gig as a lifeguard has done fantastic things to his skin tone. Summer-tanned has always been Dean’s favorite shade of Sam and right now his brother’s a deep golden brown with nipples like….oh, fuck no. Sam’s not shirtless just because it’s hot and Dean’s not falling into his trap.

He’s got a pretty good idea what will distract him from Sam’s machinations, so he gets stiffly to his feet and peels his t-shirt off with a hiss. His own skin tone is leaving something to be desired after their days at the beach. He’s still not looking in Sam’s direction, but he can _feel_ his brother’s mouth opening to give him yet another rendition of _if you’d only listened to me_ , so he holds a hand up and Sam doesn’t speak. It’s like a small miracle, but Dean knows why Sam doesn’t say anything. It’s because his mouth is still busy with something else. Bastard.

Dean takes a halting step towards the bathroom, because a cold shower sounds like a good idea right now for a variety of reasons. Sam’s always been a prick about letting him suffer in peace though, so before he’s moved a foot, the gigantic pain in the ass is right behind him. Sam wraps a hand around Dean’s waist, careful not to press against his sunburned back, and Dean growls a warning.

“Get the hell off of me, Sam.”

Sam doesn’t reply; at least not with words. Something cold traces Dean’s shoulder, from the tip to the back of his neck and Sam’s tongue follows the trail it leaves. The cold feels good against the tight heat of Dean’s skin, but he flinches slightly from Sam’s touch.

“Sorry.” Sam’s icy breath whispers against his back and Dean shivers as Sam moves around to face him. One of Sam’s huge hands is still pressed against Dean’s belly, the other is holding the stick of the popsicle that Dean’s been trying so hard to ignore. Dean junior had been perking up during Sam’s pornographic moans and slurps and now that the visual’s there too, it jumps all the way to attention. Sam’s eyes drop, then come back to meet Dean’s and the temperature rises another hundred degrees.

Sam slides the popsicle in and out of his mouth, tongue lapping at it, and the soundtrack to this particular oral fixation begins again. Dean has to admit that it’s taking his mind off his back, but he’s not ready to give Sam what he wants quite so quickly. He’s not going to be able to hold out long though. The thought of Sam ditching the popsicles and using that talented mouth on his dick is just too tempting.

Sam takes one more slurp, then presses his mouth to Dean’s. His lips are cold and when his tongue slides into Dean’s mouth, it’s chilled and sweet. _Cherry_ , Dean thinks, right before Sam whispers the word in his ear and Dean’s knees are getting weak. He should probably sit down, before he embarrasses himself.

“Why don’t you go sit down and I’ll put some lotion on your back to help with the burn.”

Dean looks at the chair and then back at his brother. “Don’t want to sit down,“ he lies.

”Is your ass sunburned?”

“No. But wouldn’t it be easier if I was lying on the bed?”

Sam grins and runs his tongue slowly up the popsicle. “Not for what I’ve got in mind.”

“Maybe you and I have different things in mind, Princess.” Another lie, but what the hell, can’t have Sam thinking he’s easy.

Sam’s eyes flick to the bulge in Dean’s jeans, but he only asks, “Is your dick sunburned?”

“No.” Dean’s aware he sounds like a petulant four year old, and Sam evidently thinks so too.

“Then take off your pants and go sit your lily-white rear end in that chair so I can take care of you. “

Dean unfastens his jeans and slides them down, grimacing as the rough fabric slides against his lobster red legs. There’s a reason he doesn’t do shorts and they’re never fucking taking another job at a beach. He walks haltingly to the chair and sits, glad that the shorts he’d been forced to wear had gone down to his knees.

Sam swallows down the rest of the popsicle and disappears into the bathroom to wash his hands, reappearing with a supersized bottle of lotion.

“We had that? Since when do we have sunburn lotion?”

“Since we had a job in the sun, brainiac. You plus a beach plus the fact that you’re a stubborn jackass equals me making sure I have this on hand for after.

“After what?”

“After you prove your jackassity. Lean forward.”

Dean does and a small gasp escapes as Sam squirts the cool liquid onto his burning skin. Sam’s hands are gentle as he spreads the lotion over Dean’s back, but Dean still grits his teeth against the pain. When Dean’s back is covered, shoulders to hips, Sam moves in front of his brother and drops to his knees.

Little Dean is bobbing in front of Sam’s face and he presses a kiss to the tip. “Don’t worry,” he whispers to it. “I haven’t forgotten about you. You’d be taken care of already if I didn’t have this stupid sunburn to deal with.”

“Oh, fuck you, Sam. Give me the damned lotion and I’ll put it on myself.”

Sam just laps Dean’s dick one more time and grins up at his brother, upending the bottle into his hand. He rubs the soothing cream over Dean’s arms, and up the backs of his calves while Dean tenses to keep from twitching away.

“This is what you get for not using sunblock, jerk.”

“Think we could skip the lecture this once, bitch?”

“I’m just saying, Dean. It’s a good thing you fell asleep on your stomach, because last time you burned your chest, I didn’t get to play with these,” Sam flicks Dean’s nipples, “for way too long.”

“Hey, I let that chick rub baby oil on me. She said that’s what she uses.”

“Oh trust me, I noticed that.” Sam’s voice is dark. “ _She_ said, huh? _I_ seem to remember saying that you needed to use, like, SPF 100.”

“You used baby oil.”

“Yeah, well that’s because I..”

“I swear to God, you over –melatonin’d freak, if the next words out of your mouth are _don’t burn_ , I’m stopping this right now and you can just suck on popsicles for the rest of the night.”

Sam gusts a sigh of hot, moist air over his brother’s dick, and Dean doesn’t quite manage to swallow his moan. Sam gets to his feet without taking his eyes off Dean’s straining cock: hard and red and curved against his brother’s tight belly. Dean’s not worried though; Sam doesn’t want to be sucking on popsicles instead of that hot, silky flesh any more than Dean wants him to be.

Sam goes to the room’s small fridge and pulls another popsicle out of the tiny freezer, then returns to settle down between his brother’s thighs. He pulls the wrapper off and immediately begins sucking.

“Mmmmm. Grape.” Sam lowers his head and lets his chilled breath ghost along the length of his brother’s dick. Dean struggles to stay still and Sam reaches up and wraps a hand around the back of Dean’s head, pulling him forward. Sam runs the popsicle along Dean’s lips then kisses the taste off them, thrusting his tongue against his brother’s as he runs the icy treat down Dean’s chest.

Sam releases Dean’s mouth and follows the sweet trail down his neck. He presses the popsicle against one nipple, then the other, leaving it until it burns, then following up with his cold mouth. Now it’s Dean’s hand behind Sam’s head, holding his brother tight as Sam laps and bites at his sensitive flesh. Sam eventually pulls back and continues to trail cold liquid down Dean’s belly, licking and sucking the smooth skin clean in its wake.

Dean’s ready to pop by the time Sam’s head is back down where he really needs it to be, but he lets Sam run the show. It’ll be worth it by the time his brother’s done; it always is.

Sam presses cold kisses against the heat of Dean’s flesh; first to the head, soft and gentle, then harder and more demanding as he moves down the shaft. He takes the popsicle into his mouth for a long moment before sucking in one of Dean’s balls, then the other. Dean shudders at the sensations and gasps as Sam runs the frozen toy up and down his cock. Sam’s tongue follows the swirling tube of flavored ice until he’s back to the head and then he goes down on his brother, swallowing him to the base then bobbing back up again.

Sam’s mouth is tight around Dean’s length and Dean’s hips are twitching, forcing himself further into his brother. Sam slides the popsicle under Dean’s balls and Dean slams up, Sam’s throat opening to accommodate him. Sam’s lips loosen a little and the popsicle slips in alongside Dean’s cock. Sam moves it in and out, his tongue sliding along with it and Dean’s painting the air with gasped odes to his brother’s talent.

The popsicle’s melting in the heat of Sam’s mouth and he swirls the icy slush around, covering Dean’s flesh with it before swallowing. Dean lets out a strangled scream as Sam continues to swallow and he explodes down his brother’s throat, finally pulling Sam’s head tightly against him. Sam’s throat continues to work Dean through the aftershocks and he licks and sucks his brother clean before pulling off.

Dean lets out a deep breath and sinks back into the chair before springing forward again with a hiss. Sam reaches up to kiss him and Dean lets himself sink into it, lost in the taste of sweet grape and tangy come.

Sam breaks off the kiss and with a soft, “I’ll be right back,” he pads into the bathroom. Dean hears the water running, but his head’s starting to spin and it’s hard to keep his eyes open.

“Hey, Dean. Open your eyes, just for a minute and then you can go to sleep, okay?”

Dean’s forces his eyelids apart and stares groggily at the pills Sam’s holding out to him. “ ‘m not sick, Sammy. Don’t need pills.”

“These will help with the pain, just take them.” Sam slides a finger into Dean’s mouth and follows it with the Tylenol. He holds a glass of water up and Dean swallows. “Atta boy. Okay, let’s get you into bed.”

Dean lets his brother pull him to his feet, but he’s forgetting something, he knows he is. It isn’t until he stumbles and presses against the bulge in Sam’s jeans that he remembers.

“No, Sammy. Can’t leave you…gotta…”

Sam just laughs and maneuvers Dean until he’s face down on the bed. “I’ll give you a rain-check tonight, Dean. Tell you what. Remember that time outside Whitefish?”

“Mmmm. When I fucked you over the hood of the Impala?”

“Whoa, yeah. You go to sleep and I’m going to be right here watching you and jerking off thinking about that. So you’ll be involved in the whole getting me off process, you just won’t be an active participant. Work for you? Dean?”

Soft breathing is the only response from the other bed and Sam grins. He’s got a long night ahead of him, but he’s also got a whole box of popsicles in the freezer and more than enough fantasies (and realities, jesus, does he have realities) of his brother to keep him going. Sam grabs a popsicle, pictures himself spread over the sun-warmed hood of the Impala with Dean fucking him to within an inch of his life, and starts to kill some time.


End file.
